Author
Topic: The Great Poop Prank of 2006 (Read 2050 times)

You had asked about Discordian weddings. I have a story about a Discordian wedding, but it's in the middle of a story about one of the greatest pranks I've ever pulled.

It was 2007. I was living in the Obnoxious Jerk Cabalhouse in Stamford CT. The OJC was a group of loud Discordian spags that spent most of their time shouting for no reason and carrying on like assholes. That's another story.

My cabalmate Golden Rod was the priest at his Sister's wedding. The sister didn't really know anything about Discordia, she just knew that he was a registered minister in Connecticut (Thanks ULC!). Golden Rod warned her that a Discordian wedding would probably have some sort of awful twist. She said that would be cool.

The Back story

Now let me back up a bit. Golden Rod and I are best friends. In the year that this story takes place, I was pulling an epic prank on him.

Golden Rod was a master at the video game Halo. He played in national tournaments. He won money. He played every day. At this point in our story, he was kind of deep into it. You couldn't even talk to him, he'd be glued to the TV in his room for 8-12 hours at a time.

Golden Rod had just bought his first computer of his very own. There had always been one in the house, but he had never owned one. He was kind of a newbie at computers. When he installed AOL Instant Messenger, all sorts of people came out of the woodwork to say Hi. Prior to this, he was only online for like 15 minutes per week. So if you actually caught the crazy bastard online, you'd want to say Hi.

One night, I sneaked into Golden Rod's room and changed his AIM Profile to say, "Hi, this is <name omitted>'s roommate, and I'm pulling a prank on him. I'd like your help. Please contact him some time in the next 3 days and tell him you had an incredible dream, and he was in it. Make up anything you want, but during this dream, he craps his pants. You can use AIM, but it's better to call him, e-mail him, or contact him some other way. Please don't spoil the joke by telling him what's really up!"

Without going on too much about Golden Rod's personality, this was really the perfect prank for him. Believing that multiple people were having dreams about him is the sort of thing that would get into his head. He would be skeptical, but a part of him would really want to believe that something mystical was happening.

For the next week, the messages poured in. "I just had this crazy dream, dude! I was on the subway, and there was this homeless guy, and he shit right on the floor... and when he turned around, IT WAS YOU!"

At first, Golden Rod was amused. But after three or four people had told him similar stories, he began to suspect something was up. But here was the problem - a lot of the people who were coming out of the woodwork to talk to him weren't even friends. A bunch of them were people he had met online, or at some remote show or convention - he hadn't talked to them in YEARS. There was no way somebody contacted all of these people. He couldn't figure out what node connected all of them (it was himself, all along!).

Some of my friends delivered FANTASTIC performances. Golden Rod grilled them hard and they held up under pressure, acting shocked when they heard other people were having similar dreams. Some of their performances had him convinced that at least SOME of these poop dreams really happened.

By day 3, Golden Rod started to get worried. "I honestly don't understand what's going on," he told me, "It's either an elaborate prank, in which case somebody has been VERY clever, or Eris is sending me some message through the dreaming."

"That's what worries me," he told me, "Every time I fart, I think to myself, oh fuck, it's happening. I've been crapping like crazy so I don't shit myself at work or something."

"I know what's going to happen," I replied, smirking, "You're going to be stuck in traffic on I-95, and there will be no bathroom. You'll shit your pants, then you'll have to sit in it for an hour."

"That is the worst thing I can imagine," he said, brow furrowed with genuine worry.

"Maybe you should just get it over with," I suggested. Golden Rod's brow furrowed again. Then there was silence. He was really considering crapping his pants on purpose!

I saw his brow furrow again. "I'm gonna do it," he said.

I waited.

He couldn't do it.

"You might as well do it here in the apartment while you've got clean underwear in the other room," I said.

He told me I was right. He tried to crap himself again. But he couldn't bring himself to intentionally shit his pants.

He was so confused. Are all mystical experiences like this? he wondered. If this is a prank, I can't figure out who's behind it. On the other hand, if Gods really are real, why am I worshiping this awful fecally-obsessed harpy?

The Wedding

A few days passed. Golden Rod had worked himself up to a state of poop-anxiety. He said his butt-cheeks were clenched all day. He was seeing poop everywhere. He knew the prophecy was coming true, whatever it was.

A cabalmate of mine ("Hideously Superfluous K") actually crapped his pants by accident after eating at a buffet. This was a sign.

It was Saturday. Golden Rod was wearing his finest, officiating over his sister's wedding. It was a beautiful day, despite the cranky constipated infant (being held by Golden Rod's mother).

Golden Rod said some nice words, he said some silly words, he said some sweet and sentimental words. Then he wrapped up the ceremony with a "You may kiss the bride." The bride and groom began making out.

All hell broke loose.

The infant SUDDENLY and EXPLOSIVELY recovered from her constipation. You know what happens when you put your thumb over a hose nozzle and water sprays everywhere? Liquid shit blasted out of the kid's diaper. It got all over the flower girl's head and face. Golden Rod's mom was covered in shit. It kept coming out. The mom ran towards the bridesmaids, trying to pass off the fecal spray hose. The bridesmaids panicked, screaming, flailing around, falling all over each other, getting covered in shit. The whole congregation exploded in laughter, terror, disgust, amusement, you name it. Golden Rod raised his hands into the air, concluding the ceremony by shouting "ALL HAIL DISCORDIA".

Waiting for the other shoe to drop...

At this point, I wasn't sure what to do. Should I tell Golden Rod that this has been an elaborate prank? Or should I just never tell him, leaving him with a feeling of unease and mystery for the rest of his life?

Eventually I realized that it's a prank, and it's for MY entertainment, so I should try to wrap it up.

I tried to tell Golden Rod, I really did.

I went into his room one day while he was playing Halo. I put his AIM profile up on the screen. He didn't even know what an AIM profile was, but it was the key to the poop dream mystery. It was the only point shared by all these different branches of his social network. I said, "When you get a chance, check this out."

He said, "I will," but he didn't look up. I went to bed, locking my door behind me.

Golden Rod never did check out the monitor. His girlfriend eventually came home and closed the window without reading it.

The next day, before bed, I went back into his room. "Did you check out that thing?" I asked.

"Nah," he said, "Christie closed the window. What was it?"

"Check it out," I said, putting the profile back up on the screen. I surpressed my giddy giggle and left the room.

He didn't check it out. Hours later, his computer restarted itself, and the window was closed.

The third day came. I told myself that if he didn't get it today, Eris probably wanted him to be left in the dark.

I said, "I know you didn't see this, but you really do need to look at it. You'll thank me later." I turned the monitor towards Golden Rod, who was busy blasting people with an assault rifle in Halo.

"Yeah sure," he said, waving me off. I figured he wouldn't see it. I went to bed and locked my door.

That night, Golden Rod DID check it out before he went to bed. I remember waking up briefly at 4:30 AM to him yelling "MOTHERFUCKER!" in shock and surprise.

But nobody was awake. He couldn't flip out about it, nobody was there to hear his outrage. And my door was locked. So Golden Rod bottled it up and went to bed.

The next day, I drove into Connecticut for a party at a friend's beach house. Golden Rod was there, but we didn't talk about the prank. The party stretched late into the night. Eventually, the sun was coming up over the Atlantic Ocean.

Somebody said, (totally randomly) "I had the weirdest dream the other day."

At this point, steam began to come out of Golden Rod's ears. His eyes bulged. "I saw," he said, breathing heavily, "I saw my AIM profile..." All that rage he had bottled up began to escape.

I grinned. "And...?"

"And.... YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHH!" ---- that was the sound he made as he choked me.

The next 30 minutes were spent as he called up every single person that told him about their dream. This was 5 AM so he woke up everybody he called. This one poor girl was in the hospital with meningitis, she couldn't even sit up, and he yelled at her all the same. "YOU WERE IN ON IT TOO?" he shouted into the cell phone. She hung up on him. He called back and kept yelling. Eventually, his phone ran out of batteries.

"That's it," he said, "I'm out of here."

He pushed a rowboat into the ocean and paddled away.

He actually did get lost at sea, and was stranded in the boat with no water as the sun came up. When he eventually came back, he was sunburned like a lobster, dehydrated, crashed out on my friend's deck.

"All I have to say," he said to me, thoroughly exhausted, lying face down in the sand, "is that you got me. You got me real good."

Every time I misplaced something, I'd wonder if this was part of Golden Rod's revenge.

It didn't help that I was a screaming pinealist and my headspace at the time was quite magical. I was trying to become a black belt at psychic kung-fu, and in the process, I made myself very vulnerable to psychic attack.

A lot of weird stuff happened at that apartment, and I'm sure some of it was Golden Rod's attempts to weird me out. Some of it may have genuinely been weird shit (rubber snakes magically turning into wooden snakes overnight when no one was home? still don't know what happened there). I'll never really know for sure.

"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know, everybody you see, everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake, and they live in a state of constant, total amazement."

"Onlookers will be horrified and amazed by the sheer volume of fluid."--TGRR

"SaraLee, I say unto you! If ye have a cake and halve it, and then halve it yet again, you would have four quarters and yet still not have a dollar. Eat of that cake, for it is cake which is NOT cake, which ye may have half a mind to have at a reasonable price, yet in indecision achieve satori with said stale Moon Pie. That's what you get when YOU FUCK WITH US." - DOUR

Your writing is quite good. Is it the same Goldenrod from the black iron prison pamphlet?

yeah, he's analogous

The story is fiction, but Golden Rod is based on a real guy.

he got his name from a tragic game of Ballpipe, when a metal pipe lacerated his scrotum and he won the sport's only "Golden Rod" award. It's a lifetime achievement award for injury during a game of ballpipe.

" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."- TGRR, shaming himself forever, 7/8/2017

"Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."- TGRR, raising the bar at work.